After Barbados
by simply woven
Summary: "She'd always wanted to be a mother, had always loved kids..." What might have happened if Kerry hadn't miscarried, as requested
1. The Beginning

_I'm not claiming to be an expert on anything related to in vitro fertilization, fertility, pregnancy, motherhood, or having a love life, career, or family. I just do a lot of research. I hope you enjoy! _

**The Beginning**

She'd always wanted to be a mother, had always loved kids. She was pretty good with them, too; if Emergency Medicine hadn't been so appealing, so incredibly challenging and rewarding, she would have gone into pediatrics. Sometimes she regretted not choosing pediatrics, or at least not doing a fellowship; that way, she could fulfill her child caring quota without having to actually have them herself. At least, that's what she occasionally told herself when she was feeling particularly overwhelmed by her nonexistent work-life balance.

Kerry had chosen emergency medicine, though, and had put the dream of motherhood on hold all throughout medical school and residency; though she was married for a good chunk of that time, it never truly felt like a good time. Her husband hadn't been interested in having children, either, at least not yet. Little did he know that would end up being his only chance…

Mark Greene was the one who had reignited her desire to start a family. First, of course, it was simply seeing he and Elizabeth with Ella, seeing how happy they were and that light in their eyes. Then, it was his final sentiments to her: don't let your work become your life, Kerry. She'd gone home and thought long and hard after he told her that. Finally, it was his death. It had hit her harder than she'd thought it would. Of course, part of it was because of their friendship, even if it was buried under years of disagreements. But part of it was also how much of a wakeup call it had been. Mark had been thirty-eight years old when he'd died, only two years older than her, and something inside kept reminding her of all the things she would have died without accomplishing had it been her with the inoperable, untreatable brain tumor. At the top of that list was raising a child.

* * *

There were a lot of reasons that Sandy wasn't sure about their ability to raise a kid.

She knew that she and Kerry had very different childhood experiences. In addition to the obvious disparities that their nine year age difference imposed, her and Kerry's childhoods had very few similarities: Kerry was an only child of two white protestants while Sandy was one of five children in a Latino Catholic family; Kerry grew up all over the world, but Sandy had never lived outside of Chicago; Kerry read books, Sandy played sports; Kerry's parents were wealthy, well-educated, and radically democrat, a stark contrast to Sandy's working class, immigrant parents who had never even entertained the thought of voting blue since they became citizens.

And then, of course, there were the differences in who they were as adults. There were a lot of those. A lot. On a basic level, they were at pretty different places in their lives. With nearly ten years between them, they were at very different points in their careers: Kerry had been a senior physician at the hospital for over six years and had administrative experience while Sandy was still moving up in the ranks at the fire department. Less superficially, their personalities were relatively different. For instance, Kerry had a hard time getting things off her chest: she bundled everything up and tucked it away in a faraway corner of her mind, then let the troubles and annoyances in her life build up until it either exploded or imploded. Sandy, on the other hand, was straightforward: if something bugged her, she'd tell you right then and there. That difference had always been the hangnail of their relationship, and Sandy wasn't sure how it'd translate to them raising a child together.

Of course, they shared a lot of similarities, too. Just as Sandy had told Kerry after that other ER doc, Mark Greene, died: the two of them spent their days putting out the fires, the problems, that were constantly threatening to consume other people. Sandy did it physically, combatting flames and pulling kids and moms and dads from burning buildings and all of that, while Kerry took a little less literal but just as important approach. That's what made them so compatible, Sandy thought: their undeniable need to help others, their shared thirst to right all of the wrongs, the high they got when they saved a life. Those were the things that were the most basic part of their individual identities—way down on a molecular level—and that was why they understood each other so well.

So while the differences in both who they were and how they were raised scared the shit out of Sandy when they first started talking about having a kid, she also knew that they had in common the one thing that made she and Kerry who they were; that passion, that healer-and-rescuer's complex, was what would make them good parents.

Sandy was sure of it.

* * *

"And you'll be able to handle the extra weight? With your hip?" Sandy asked comfortably. She and Kerry were sitting across from each other on the living room couch, both dressed in as few clothes as possible while still being presentable enough to meet the take-out guy from their favorite Chinese restaurant; despite it still being early May and nine o'clock at night, it was disgustingly hot. Even Wrigley, the mutt that was formerly known as Stinky and always had a surplus of energy, was lounging exhaustedly on a nearby chair.

That morning as they lay in bed, Kerry brought up the topic of having a baby. It wasn't the first time it'd come up in conversation, but that morning had been the first time Kerry had really sounded serious about it. Obviously they couldn't really discuss the idea that morning, with them both having to get ready for their shifts, but Sandy had been thinking about it all day and had composed a mental list of the many questions and concerns. She'd already asked the how and when, confirmed the who, and didn't consider herself dense enough to not have a pretty firm understanding of the why. Now, she was getting down to the finer details.

"Well, it's definitely not going to be comfortable," Kerry began matter-of-factly, "and it's something I'll have to be careful about, but I don't see why it should stop me. Stop us. No pain no gain, right?"

Sandy's mouth tipped downward, "I don't want you to be in pain, Ker…"

"Some people live in pain, Sandy." Her words held no bitterness, anger, or self-pity. Sandy admired that. She always had and she was pretty sure she always would. "But if it does get to be too much, especially in the third trimester, I could I have an injection of cortisone."

Sandy nodded in satisfaction. She knew that Kerry understood her body better than she ever could, that even though it appeared to Sandy that she sometimes pushed herself too far and did too much, Kerry was the only one who could decide when enough was enough. It was just a matter of Kerry's perception of 'too much'…"And you'd think about taking it easy at work?"

Kerry's elegant eyebrows furrowed, her blue eyes narrowing at her wife. "Would you take it easy at work?" She replied, her tone not exactly malicious but noticeably more icy than it had been just moments ago.

"No, I wouldn't. That's why I'm not carrying it." Sandy was by no means angry, but she was a little annoyed with Kerry's defensive, knee-jerk reaction. God forbid the woman take a few less shifts when she's nine months pregnant… "I just want you to be healthy and comfortable and happy. You can't overdo it. At least not when you're pregnant."

Kerry kept her eyes narrowed at Sandy for a long moment before she relaxed and sighed audibly. "I know, and you're right. I just don't want…I don't want to be helpless, or seem handicapped. I've worked with enough pregnant doctors to know that, once that cat is out of the bag, everyone starts treating you a little differently. The nurses are the worst, of course. And it's not as if anyone really treats me like that now, but I'm just afraid that I'll suddenly be seen as this doubly fragile china doll. I don't want to do anything to perpetuate that."

Sandy considered what Kerry had told her; the psyche of the disabled doctor was one of the most messed up, convoluted, and confusing things she'd ever been exposed to. "They respect you, Kerry. Everyone respects you. That's why they treat you just like they would every other able bodied doctor." Sandy said, placing her hand on top of Kerry's where it rested on the back of the couch. Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the door. She gave Kerry's hand a squeeze then stood up. "They respect you now and I don't think anything, not even being pregnant, is going to change that."

* * *

Dr. Rydell's a dyke, Sandy insisted after the tall doctor with a salt-and-pepper crew cut left the examination room.

Kerry chuckled. Her gaydar had gone off when she'd first met the fertility specialist, too, but she figured it had just been the hair; though she'd been lucky to get it right with Sandy, her ability to detect lesbians within a five foot radius stemmed solely from her ability to discern short hair from long. Not exactly scientific—or even really logical—considering the fact that the two women she had been involved with had both had long, thick curls.

The couple was attending the fourth and final appointment they had to have before beginning the process of in vitro fertilization. Kerry had gone to the first three by herself, figuring it was pointless for Sandy to come watch her do something like get blood drawn or have a pelvic exam, especially when Kerry could schedule them to be right before, after, or during a shift.

The nature of this appointment, however, necessitated that they both be present. Today was the day that determined whether or not they could—physically and emotionally—proceed with the IVF treatments and attempt to conceive.

Kerry had released an enormous sigh of relief when Dr. Rydell said they could go ahead. She'd tried not to tear up, but for weeks she'd been entertaining the thought of not being able to proceed with it, and the news felt like a huge weight off her shoulders, so the tears fell. Of course, she thought after the initial relief had washed over her, they weren't pregnant yet. She knew, and Dr. Rydell reminded them, that the road they had ahead of them was going to be long, emotionally exhausting, and physically taxing.

Kerry turned to Sandy, Sandy grabbed her hand, and they both nodded.

They could handle it.

* * *

"Isn't that going to hurt?" Sandy asked, eyeing with concern the syringe in Kerry's hand.

Kerry looked at the syringe herself; she held these things every day but had never used one to inject herself. She shrugged, "It's not going into your stomach."

Lounging on their shared bed, Sandy shuddered, "That's still a damn big needle…"

Kerry chuckled. "It really isn't; this is a subcutaneous injection, so the syringe is only 31 gauge; considerably smaller than one used for an intramuscular injection, which tend to be between 22 and 25 gauge." She looked up from the syringe, "That's what I'll use for the hCG and progesterone."

"Your stomach is going to look like a pin cushion when this is all over…"

"And my hip;" Kerry remarked, "The hCG and progesterone go into the hip muscle."

"You mean your ass?"

"One and the same."

"That should be a good time…" Sandy responded, her voice coated lightly in sarcasm. She watched Kerry intently—the redhead was still standing in the middle of their bedroom, staring at the clear syringe cradled in her hand. "Are you going to use that or just stare at it?" Sandy teased. She didn't want to push, but she also wasn't sure how much longer Kerry could just stand there like that.

Kerry glanced up. "Do you want to do it?" She asked timidly, holding out the syringe.

"No, not really…" Sandy admitted, shaking her head. "Do you want me to do it?"

Kerry's head fell to the side as she considered it. "Uh, no, probably not."

Sandy scooted over so she was sitting on the edge of the bed across from where Kerry was standing. Their gazes connected for a long moment, blue eyes piercing brown ones. Even without speaking Sandy knew that it wasn't the actual needle that Kerry was afraid of, nor was it the substance that the syringe held. Rather, it was the implications of inserting that needle and pushing the drugs, how that action was going to influence their lives, that was making Kerry hesitate.

"We're going to have the best kid ever, Ker." Sandy said, rising from the bed to stand directly in front of Kerry. "The smartest, cutest, funniest, greatest kid. And we're going to be great parents."

Releasing a deep breath, Kerry nodded, encouraged by her partner's words. Still, she didn't make any move to inject herself.

Sandy stepped forward, now standing close enough for Kerry to be able to feel her warm breath on her face. "The sooner you do it, the sooner we can get into bed."

"Into bed? It's only lunchtime…" Kerry asked naively. After a moment, her eyes widened and a sly smile graced her lips, "Oh, into bed."

"These next few months are the last time we'll be able to have sex whenever we want, ya know?" Sandy explained, her voice low.

Kerry gave her a small smile. "Well if that's not incentive I don't know what is…" She let her lips connect to Sandy's only for a quick second before she stepped back towards their en suite bathroom. Quickly, she cleaned her skin with an alcohol swab and, with one more look at Sandy, emptied the syringe of Lupron, a hormone suppressant, into her stomach.

* * *

Kerry worked throughout the beginning of the IVF cycle. It was impractical and unnecessary to take time off, especially considering the responsibilities she had to take over in light of Robert's recovery and the impending arrival of the new medical students. Sandy insisted that she should take it easy, that she should cut back on her shifts and have someone else pick up Roman's slack, but Kerry couldn't—didn't want to—do that. She didn't need to, either.

So, Kerry worked. She continued to pull her regular shifts and cover Romano's meetings and administrative responsibilities throughout the first, three week round of hormones. At first she was worried about keeping it all on the down-low, not letting anyone in on her secret, but it didn't turn out to be as difficult as she'd imagined. Really, all she had to do was slip away from whatever she was doing for a few minutes between eleven and twelve every afternoon, duck into the restroom, give herself a quick injection, and then she was right back in the thick of it. No one noticed anything was off, or if they did they certainly didn't say anything.

Those three weeks went by quickly; most of the time, Kerry felt no different than she had the month before. That all changed, however, when the time to tackle the next step of IVF came.

* * *

"Hey, sleepyhead…"

Kerry blinked a few times, taking in her surroundings as best she could without her glasses on. She soon realized where she was and why she felt like she'd been punched repeatedly in the stomach. Egg retrieval. "Hi…" her voice was raspy and throat was dry from the time spent anesthetized. "How many did they get?"

Sandy smiled, tapping the top of Kerry's hand. The number seven was written in purple sharpie.

Kerry grinned sleepily; it wasn't an excessive amount, but it was better than nothing. It was hope. It was a start.

* * *

Kerry sighed. It was only 11 A.M. and she'd already finished her five newest medical journals and that day's Sun-Times. Now, she was watching that ridiculous talk show with a deep sense of disdain accumulating in her chest. God, she thought after a few minutes, these women are terrors. Still, she had to admit she kind of appreciated the light, fruitless things they were talking about; it was a nice break from real life.

Her abdomen still ached. She'd been told and had read that the egg retrieval was typically the most uncomfortable part of IVF, but she hadn't known the discomfort was going to last more than a couple days. Now, three days post-retrieval, she felt nearly as horrible as she had when she woke up from anesthesia.

Kerry was simultaneously watching some Latino actor's interview and allowing her mind to wander when Sandy ambled in. Kerry had woken up at eight that morning but had allowed Sandy to sleep in; the firefighter had worked the second half of a twenty-four the day before and was exhausted. So instead of waking her, Kerry had carefully slipped out of bed and into the living room to relax with Wrigley, a cup of tea, and her medical journals. Now, as her wife approached, Kerry could smell the rich vanilla scent emanating from her hair. She smiled reflexively; that soft, warm smell had become her favorite.

"Really, Kerr? You're watching this crap?" Sandy asked, leaning over her partner. "You must really feel bad."

Kerry tilted her chin up so she was looking at Sandy's face upside down. "Mm…you smell so good."

Sandy kissed the crown of Kerry's head before coming around to sit on the coffee table. "How are you feeling?" Her voice was piqued with concern.

"Better," Kerry shifted as she answered. She instantly regretted the movement as a sharp pain tore through the center of her lower abdomen. She drew in a sharp breath, alarming Sandy.

"What can I do?"

Kerry smirked, "Tell my ovaries to get control of themselves? And maybe refill this…" Kerry said, gesturing toward the empty 'Chicago Fired Department' mug that sat on the coffee table next to Sandy.

The brunette nodded. Much to her and Kerry's dismay, she couldn't control Kerry's ovaries. She could, however, get her some more tea.

When Sandy returned with the mug and a plate of dry toast, she set both on the coffee table and reclaimed her seat on the wooden surface. "Can I do anything else?"

Kerry started to shake her head—there really wasn't much either of them could do, given the nature of the beast. It was just a matter of waiting it out; waiting for the eggs to be mature enough to transfer back into her body, waiting to find out if any of them take, waiting for the confirmative blood test and ultrasound, waiting...Thinking better of it, Kerry stopped shaking her head and instead scooted over so Sandy could sit in between her and the arm of the couch. Once Sandy was next to her, Kerry placed a pillow in the other woman's lap then lowered her head and torso until she was horizontal to the couch and her head was resting comfortably on her partner's thighs. Sandy immediately understood what they were doing and relaxed into the couch, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

"Good?" Sandy asked, her voice soft.

Kerry nodded into the throw pillow. She was still felt like shit, but Sandy made it considerably more bearable. "Thank you."

Raking her fingers gently through Kerry's hair, Sandy smiled, "Anytime."

* * *

The pain abated on the fourth day and, coincidentally, the waiting ceased as well. Dr. Rydell's office called at 8 o'clock that morning, requesting the couple to come in that afternoon. The eggs were fertilized, mature, and ready to be transferred. It was go time.

* * *

"Everyone says these two weeks are the worst…" Kerry said to Sandy. She'd just had one fertilized egg transferred back into her body, the Valium had worn off, and the couple was in Sandy's car heading back to their apartment.

"'Everyone?' Who's 'everyone?'" Sandy asked—the five days after the eggs had been collected had seemed pretty bad to her and she wasn't looking forward to it getting 'worse.'

Kerry shrugged. "Books, the internet, pamphlets…you know. It's not bad physically, just mentally. A lot of waiting and worrying." Kerry sighed. "It's a good thing I'm going back to work. I think I'd go crazy if I had to stay home any longer."

Sandy nodded silently; she could tell, just from Kerry's tone, that she was more worried than she was letting on to be. Sandy was worried, too, but she figured that it was probably a different feeling when it was actually your body that the pregnancy depended on. If, God forbid, it didn't work, it would be Kerry that would feel the full trauma—physically and emotionally—of the failure. Of course Sandy would be upset—she wanted this baby just as much as Kerry did—but it would be different. It was different.

* * *

"Hey, Kerry—feeling better?"

"John, hi." Kerry momentarily turned from her locker to face John Carter then turned back, grabbing her stethoscope and double-checking the contents of her pockets. "I am, thanks." She couldn't lie to John's face.

"I don't remember the last time you were out sick—guess it caught up with you, huh?"

"Guess so…" Kerry nodded "How have things held up around here?"

The senior resident shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "It's been hectic—too many GSWs, not enough staff, but no bioterrorism scares." John joked, "It's been a typical summer week. Glad you're back."

"Me too," Kerry nodded, closing her locker and heading out the lounge door. Over her shoulder, she called out one last thought, "And John, it wasn't bioterrorism!"

The young doctor waved off his boss' comment with a wry smile as he headed for the bay doors, "Yeah, yeah…"

* * *

The two weeks were, as promised, difficult. Kerry found herself keeping track of every move she made, everything she ate and drank, how much sleep she was getting and how much she was working. The only times she truly forgot about what was (hopefully) occurring inside her body was when she was either asleep or was in the midst of a trauma. Other than that, it was constantly on her mind. Constantly.

"You know that I love you no matter what, right?" Sandy asked quietly, placing her hand over Kerry's where it rested on the arm of the chair. They were sitting in front of Dr. Rydell's desk, waiting for the results of the blood test. Sandy knew that one of the biggest challenges Kerry had faced throughout her life was the need to succeed, to be the best. Kerry had mentioned that it probably stemmed from having been given up for adoption as a baby; the idea of not being good enough had been planted in her head when she was just a little a girl and, no matter what anyone said or what she accomplished, she was constantly trying to make up for it.

Kerry nodded, not trusting herself to speak without a shaking voice. She was terrified. Terrified that her body had betrayed her, that she hadn't taken it easy enough over the past two weeks, that she wasn't good enough…

The real question was, they both knew, if Kerry could still love herself…


	2. Little People with Hammers

**Little People with Hammers**

**Four Weeks**  
**August**

"I lost it on Elizabeth Corday today," Kerry admitted dryly as she and Sandy sat across from each other at the dinner table.

"Did she deserve it?"

Kerry sighed. "She just got back from England and she's still mourning Mark's death and—"

"That doesn't mean she didn't deserve it. Besides, that was, like, six months ago."

"Four. Four months ago."

"Whatever." Sandy replied easily, waving her hand.

"She didn't deserve it, anyway. Not really. She's never been the most agreeable person but all of this is only making it worse. I can't blame her." Kerry sighed in defeat. "It was my fault—I couldn't keep my emotions in check." Suddenly, she laughed in spite of herself, "I mean, I cried, Sandy. I actually cried."

Sandy laughed, too; Kerry could generally control her emotions quite well, but in recent weeks she'd become a little more…emotionally volatile. Kerry's suddenly acquired tendency to lose it had become a running joke between the two.

"She was spewing some bullshit about my wanting to be kowtowed to and I broke down." Kerry sighed, annoyed at both herself and Elizabeth Corday. "At least I didn't scream at her."

Sandy smiled understandingly, got up from her seat, and came around to give Kerry a kiss. "Well, you can scream and cry and laugh at me all you'd like."

"That's a very generous offer," Kerry chuckled, leaning her forehead against Sandy's. "I still can't believe it's in there…a baby is actually in there."

Sandy sat down in the seat next to Kerry's. "Does it feel weird? Do you even feel anything yet?"

"Besides uncontrollably and unpredictably emotional?" Kerry asked rhetorically, "I've just had this constant headache. I left early."

"It was that bad?" Sandy asked, surprised both at the fact that Kerry left work early and that she hadn't told her she'd done so.

"Between crying and the pervasive throbbing in my temples, I figured I could cut myself a break. I wasn't doing anyone much good working, anyway."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"Not that I'm pregnant. No way." Kerry said.

Sandy gave a sympathetic and apologetic half-smile. She knew that Kerry wanted to keep her pregnancy under wraps for as long as possible; not just until they were past the twelve-week safety mark, but until it actually became necessary for others to know. It was a point of contempt for Sandy: though she wasn't carrying their child, she wanted to tell their friends and family about it as soon as possible.

"How's your head feeling now?" Sandy asked.

"Like are two very small people inside, pounding hammers into my temporal lobe."

"Go take a bath." Sandy commanded as she rose from her seat at the table and headed for the preheated stove. "I'll bring you something to eat when dinner's done."

Kerry smiled at her wife. Tiredly, she rose from her chair and grabbed her crutch. Before she headed to their bathroom, she walked over and gave Sandy a small kiss on the cheek. "I kind of like this commanding, overprotective side of you." She murmured against the smooth skin.

Sandy smiled, a crease forming where Kerry's lips had just been. "Go. I'll be there soon."

Kerry did as told, going down the darkened hall and into their shared bedroom. She sat on their bed to undress but suddenly found herself in a horizontal position with her head on the pillow. The exhaustion of the day hit her like a brick. Within moments, Kerry was asleep.

Having sent Kerry to take a bath, Sandy felt a little disconcerted when she didn't hear the water running after a few minutes.

"Kerry?" She called out as she dried her hands with a small towel and walked into their bedroom. She stopped short when she stepped through the threshold and a soft, knowing smile came to her lips at the sight of her wife curled up, still fully clothed, on their bed. Despite the ten minutes Kerry had been there, the redhead was already out cold as evidenced by the soft snores coming from her throat.

Sandy knew she should wake her to at least to make sure she ate something, but the peaceful expression on Kerry's face stopped her. Instead, Sandy gently pulled Kerry's glasses from her nose, slipped her shoes off her feet, and picked her crutch up off of the bed. Quietly, she placed the fragile frames on the bedside table, put the shoes near the closet door, and leant the crutch against the wall before shutting off the light and backing out of their room.

If she isn't up in an hour I'll wake her, Sandy told herself as she returned to the kitchen and put their dinner back in the oven to keep it warm; she needs her sleep.


	3. Out of Sorts

**Out of Sorts**

**Eight Weeks**  
**September**

"Uh, send her—send her up to CT—" Kerry said to whomever in the trauma room was listening as she pulled off her yellow gown, stripped herself of her gloves, and pushed through double doors, "I'll check in on her later."

"What's her deal?" Greg Pratt asked harshly once his supervisor was out of earshot.

Carter and Abby only shrugged, equally confused by Weaver's unceremonious exit but at least marginally more used to their boss' unpredictability.

Abby had been experiencing an uneasy feeling whenever she was around Kerry as of late; she had known the older woman for a couple years and had never seen her so tired, mentally slow, or so generally out of sorts. Part of her was convinced she was reading too far into things, but another part knew something wasn't quite right. The final part was telling her not to get wrapped up in it; she had her own problems to deal with.

* * *

Kerry was relieved to find the bathroom empty when she stepped in: she couldn't imagine anything more mortifying than vomiting in the presence of someone she either had treated or would be treating…except perhaps vomiting in the presence of one of her staff. She'd already dropped the empty progesterone shot while Susan and Abby were talking at the sinks a couple weeks ago, and she wasn't looking to give anything else for their gears to turn on.

After a long few moments spent painfully kneeling on the cold tile with what little food she'd consumed in the past twenty four hours making a reappearance from the depths of her stomach, Kerry managed to pull herself into a standing position. She was instantly dizzy, another reminder that she'd been expelling more than she'd been consuming and her blood sugar was probably a little too low. She took a few deep breaths—not so deep as to send her into another bout of vomiting, but deep enough—smoothed out her pants and lab coat, then unlocked the stall and exited.

"Kerry?"

Kerry nearly had to turn right back into the stall at the sight of Susan Lewis. Her grey eyes were narrowed and brow furrowed in the way they always were when she was concerned about something. Kerry wanted none of it, at least not at that moment.

Kerry collected herself quickly, silently ordering herself to calm down and get it together. "Susan." She nodded once in acknowledgement, stepping toward the sinks and, subsequently, the other doctor.

"Are you alright, Kerry?" Susan asked, her voice heavy with a unease that Kerry both appreciated and dreaded.

Kerry thought carefully about the response she was going to give Susan; it was still too early to tell anyone she was expecting, but between calling in sick for three of her past five shifts, the dropped syringe, and the current situation, she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep the façade up much longer. At least, Kerry figured somewhat optimistically, if she absolutely had to tell someone, she wouldn't mind that person being Susan. Still, she wasn't sure if she was quite ready to break the news…she was excited to tell people, but her fear of the unknown was equally as tangible.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Yes." Kerry said, holding a few paper towels under the cold water. "Thank you." She said, her voice admittedly dismissive.

Susan didn't budge. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Everything's fine." Kerry replied quickly.

"Everything isn't fine, Kerry—you've looked horrible for weeks, now. People are starting to notice, they're worried. I'm worried."

Kerry shook her head and smiled, "I'm pregnant, Susan."

Susan's expression morphed from a deep frown to a broad smile as she responded with a voice full of joy and excitement, "Kerry! Congratulations!" She laughed, "That is so great!"

Kerry felt a weight rise and disappear from her shoulders. She, too, smiled. "Thank you, thank you so much."

"I was so worried it was something else, something bad." Susan admitted, her smiling diminishing imperceptibly. They both knew what she meant: something bad, something irreversible, inoperable, and fatal, something like cancer. "When are you due?"

"Early May." Kerry said.

Quick mental math, as well as Kerry's apparent morning sickness and the absence of any visible baby bump, assured Susan that Kerry was only nine or ten weeks along. Understanding suddenly dawned on Susan; Kerry wasn't necessarily telling her because she was ready to, but rather because she had to. How else could she explain what had been going on the past couple months? Still, even if it was an obligatory announcement, Susan felt a little honored that Kerry had trusted her enough to tell her.

"That's great, Kerry." Susan repeated genuinely. "But you know, you really don't look so good. Do you think you should go home?"

Kerry's eyes narrowed slightly in consideration. "Oh, uh…I don't think that's necessary." She said tentatively. "I'll be fine."

Susan looked at Kerry skeptically. She knew Kerry was stubborn, but she also knew she looked, and probably felt, like shit. If she were a patient and didn't know Kerry was pregnant, she'd probably have some serious reservations about being treated by her. "Okay, well if you change your mind just let me know—I'll be happy to find someone to cover the rest of your shift."

Kerry nodded. "Thanks, Susan."

The blonde smiled and headed for the door to give Kerry another moment to herself. She was approaching the curtain areas when she heard Kerry coming up behind her, the telltale sound of rubber clicking on tile a dead giveaway. Preemptively, Susan turned around.

"Uh, I actually…I think I am going to head home." Kerry said. "Only if you're sure—"

"—I'm sure, Kerry." Susan confirmed. "Go home and get some rest."

Kerry gave her a small, appreciative nod. She was proceeding to the lounge when she turned back to face Susan. "Oh, and Susan?"

The blonde raised her eyebrows.

"You'll keep this between us, right? For now at least…"

Susan nodded, smiled, and waved her hand. "Go take care of yourself, Kerry."

* * *

"Carter, I need you to stick around through the shift change tonight."

The chief resident spun around in the chair that sat at the admit desk and looked at Susan with confusion. "I thought Weaver was covering it? She's on until seven, isn't she?"

Susan nodded as she moved about the admit area, picking up another chart and signing her initials next to the patient's name on the board. She was about to move away from the transparent board when she thought to remove Kerry's initials and replace them with her own. "Yeah, but now I need you to cover."

Unsatisfied, John pushed for more information. "Why isn't Weaver staying?"

Susan sighed exasperatedly. "Because she's going home, John."

"Again?" John asked, his voice and expression suddenly soft with worry. "Is she okay?"

"Just cover her last two hours, okay?" Susan asked in a way that suggested to John that the only correct answer was 'yes.'

Still, he nodded and hopped off his seat, grabbed a chart, and went off in search of his med student.

* * *

"Where's Kerry?" Luka asked once Carter had finished signing out his and Kerry's patients.

"She left early."

"Oh," Luka paused, "is she okay?"

The resident gave the older doctor a wry smile, "Do you think she'd tell us if she wasn't?"

Luka gave a knowing nod. Carter was right that Kerry probably wouldn't tell anyone if she was ill, but it wasn't clear if anyone had actually asked. That wasn't really his problem, though. "Have a good night, Carter."

The younger man waved over his head as he went to the lounge. What he hadn't told Luka was that he'd been worrying about Kerry all afternoon. He was almost positive that, up until this year, Kerry had only called out sick two or maybe three times. While some of the staff on the floor had a penchant for staying home at the first sign of any illness, Carter knew that Kerry worked until she absolutely couldn't. That was why he'd been increasingly concerned about her as of late: she had missed an entire week a month or so ago and it seemed like she had called out for more shifts than she'd worked in the last couple weeks. He knew that not because he was keeping tabs on her—he knew better—but because he'd been called in to work a couple of them. It was a tangible effort to not guess what might be afflicting her, but he tried his hardest to keep his worries at bay; it wasn't his or anyone else's business until Kerry wanted it to be.


	4. Observations and Revelations

_It would be great to hear what everyone thinks about this story...please, leave a review! Thank you! _

**Observations and Revelations**

**12 Weeks**  
**October**

"How can a fetus the size of a plum be making me this large already?"

Sandy looked up from the magazine she was reading. She and Kerry were in their bedroom getting ready to go to her brother and sister-in-law, Eddie and Theresa's, house for their son's first birthday. She had already showered and dressed and had been relaxing on their bed as she waited for Kerry to do the same. Now the redhead was standing in front of the full-length mirror with only her pants and bra on, staring at her profile. Sandy didn't think Kerry looked too big at all; yeah, her normally toned, flat stomach had expanded into a small, soft bump, but it was hardly noticeable when she had clothing on.

"You look beautiful."

"I look like I've gained weight."

"You _have_ gained weight."

"You know what I mean."

Sandy put the magazine down and joined Kerry in front of the mirror, standing behind her and gently putting her hands over the mound. "You're beautiful," she repeated, murmuring into Kerry's neck.

Kerry reveled in Sandy's warm embrace, closing her eyes and breathing in the warm scent of her partner's vanilla shampoo. She had been lucky; while nearly every other scent, even her own shampoo, had been making her nauseated over the past few months, the vanilla had still remained her favorite.

After a long, peaceful moment, Kerry opened her eyes and shifted away from Sandy. Expertly, she grabbed her blouse from the nearby chair and began buttoning it. "I'm going to have to buy maternity clothes soon." She said with a bit of a chuckle. "I don't know how much longer I can wear my shirts untucked without my belly sticking out."

Sandy, sitting back on their bed, couldn't stop herself from responding, "We're going to have to tell people soon, too."

Having been working on the final button, Kerry paused and looked up.

Sandy braced herself for a rant, one she had already heard, about how it was Kerry's body and Kerry's choice as to if and when they broke the news to people. The first time she'd heard it—she'd been subjected to it twice now—she was hurt; yes, it was Kerry's body, but it was both of their baby and she thought that earned her the right to share the news at least with her parents and siblings. She was thrilled about becoming a mother; it wasn't something she'd always dreamed of, and at first she was a little wary of it, but now that it was happening she couldn't imagine doing anything different. She loved this baby, she loved Kerry, and she wanted to tell everyone about it.

Instead of exploding, however, Kerry nodded her head slowly. "You're right."

Sandy was shocked. "I am?"

"Yeah," She shrugged, "it's going to be too hard to keep it a secret. I'll need to talk to Robert about maternity leave and once that happens the entire hospital will probably know. I think it'd be nice to tell some of our friends, too, and your family deserves to know." Kerry forced a smile to her mouth, "I want to tell people, I do; I just don't want to them to react negatively."

Sandy placed her hand over Kerry's; "We don't need to do it all at once. We can go nice and slow. Tell everyone in waves. And hey, you already told Susan and she was great, right?"

Kerry nodded.

Sandy could feel her relaxing. She leaned over and kissed the redhead's temple. "Everyone's going to be thrilled for you."

"For us." Kerry corrected.

* * *

"Something's different about your girl, Sandy." Miguel said, staring across the room at Kerry. The redhead was sitting with wife Anna and Eddie's wife Theresa at the kitchen table.

Sandy followed the police officer's gaze across the kitchen with furrowed eyebrows. "Different?"

"Yeah, she has a look about her. I don't really know how to describe it. Mom pointed it out when you first got here." The oldest Lopez explained casually.

A momentary panic ripped through Sandy; Kerry agreed that they should start telling people the news, but did she mean today? They hadn't discussed specifics of how, when, or who they were going to tell…

"Kinda' reminds me of when Anna was pregnant with Adrian."

Sandy slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

I know, the deep brown eyes and almost imperceptible grin silently assured Sandy.

* * *

"I want Miguel to get a vasectomy." Anna said bluntly.

It was particularly difficult for Kerry not to spit out the water she'd just taken a sip of. Out of all of the sisters-in-law, Anna was the one she got along with the best. Part of it was because they were pretty close in age and both worked in the healthcare field, but the other part was definitely the nurse's sense of humor.

"Hey, I'm serious; three kids is enough for me. I'm happy. He wants six kids so they can have the same kind of upbringing that he did, but there's no way I'm going through another 27 months of pregnancy. No way."

Kerry nodded along; she'd only experienced three months of pregnancy and was pretty certain she would be digging herself an early grave if she put her body through six full-term pregnancies.

"Well I think we're going to try for another." Theresa said easily. "Probably when Alex is a year and a half. I think two's a good number."

"Does Eddie know that?" Anna shot back with a knowing grin.

Theresa smirked. "He will soon enough."

Both women laughed; Kerry wasn't sure what was funny about the comment but smiled anyway.

"What about you, Kerry?" Anna asked, eyeing the redhead.

Kerry felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a Mack truck. "Uh—what about me?" She asked, her voice breaking momentarily.

Neither woman seemed to notice. "Are you and Sandy going to start having some babies soon? You're both so good with them, I think you'd make great parents…"

"Thank you," Kerry responded with a genuine smile, her heart warmed by the compliment. "We're…you know, it's something we're talking about." She said, unsure of how exactly she should reply. She and Sandy had agreed that they'd start telling their family, friends, and coworkers but they hadn't discussed whom they were going to start with or when they were going to start. Kerry certainly didn't want to take the chance to tell her family away from Sandy.

"Oh, that's fantastic!" Anna responded.

Kerry smiled. Hopefully everyone else would think so, too.

* * *

"Miguel knows." Sandy whispered into Kerry's ear, shielding the secretive message with a small, quick kiss to the cheek. Looking at Kerry with serious eyes, she claimed the empty seat next to her and placed her plate on the dark, wooden dining room table.

Kerry raised her eyebrows, silently asking her wife if her brother's reaction was positive or negative.

Sandy smiled wider.

"Hey, what's going on with you two?" Carlos, the youngest of the Lopez kids at only twenty-four, asked.

"They're in _love_, Carlos, what do you expect?" Interjected his brother Anthony's wife, Gabby.

"This is different." Carlos said, shaking his head. "You're making eyes at each other, whispering, you haven't stopped smiling since you got here. What gives?"

All eyes, young and old, were now trained on the couple in question.

Sandy looked at Kerry, raising her eyes in question.

The doctor nodded, smiling anxiously.

Sandy inhaled and exhaled deeply before facing her brothers, sisters-in-law, and parents. "We're going to have a baby." Sandy finally said, "Kerry's pregnant."

Carlos let out a loud, excited whoop, clapping his hands together once; Miguel and Anna smiled knowingly; Eddie, Theresa, Anthony, and Gabby all shared similar expressions of happiness; and Hector, Sandy and her brothers' father, wore a thin, though genuine smile. The only one who didn't appear to be feeling the slightest bit of excitement was Florina Lopez; she was sitting at the far end of the table and, upon hearing Sandy's declaration, had simply brought her cup to her mouth and taken a long sip of water.

Sandy and Kerry didn't pay much notice to Florina's reaction or lack thereof. Instead, they accepted great big hugs from Carlos, Miguel, and Anna, and well wishes from the rest of the Lopez siblings et al. The couple answered, or at least tried to answer, the numerous questions everyone had as they ate dinner. It was exhausting but Kerry kind of enjoyed it; she wouldn't in a million years have assumed that the Lopez family would be so accepting, never mind so excited.

After dinner the family switched gears to celebrate Alexander's first birthday. Once the huge, round cake had been presented, the candles had been blown out, and the slices had been doled out, Sandy found herself standing at the kitchen sink with her mother.

"You haven't said much," Sandy commented, accepting the plate her mother had just washed and drying it with the dishcloth.

"I don't have much to say." Another plate.

"Are you angry?"

"Of course not." A cup.

"Well you sure don't seem very happy."

A long pause and another cup.

"She's blanca, mija. White."

Sandy shook her head. "Anna's white."

"Anna's Catholic."

"Kerry's religious." Sandy shot back. "Is it because she's disabled?"

Florina narrowed her eyes dangerously at her daughter. "Sandra…" she scolded.

Sandy knew she'd pushed too far; her mother was sexist, conservative, and moderately homophobic, and there were many things she didn't like about Kerry and Sandy's relationship, but she had never discriminated against Kerry because of her disability. "Then what's wrong?"

Florina dropped her hands into the hot water with a defeated sigh. "You didn't tell me, mija. You never tell me. She's making you keep secrets. She's changing you, mija."

Sandy frowned. "We agreed to no tell anyone until after twelve weeks. It was a mutual decision. We didn't do it to hurt you, any of you, and I'm sorry you feel that way." She spat back, keeping her voice low. "And you're right, Kerry has changed me. She's made me into a better person, a better lover, and is making me into a mother. If you can't see or accept that, then we've got a bigger problem than us keeping things from you."

Florina's eyes held her daughter's for a long time. "It's not yours," she said at last.

Sandy shook her head with a disapproving, derisive grin. "It is mine, Ma. It's both of ours. We decided to have this baby together. I helped pick out the donor; I watched Kerry give herself dozens of shots and held her up after she spent hours kneeling on the bathroom floor, puking; I went to appointments with her, I held her after the painful procedures, and I spent two horrible weeks waiting to find out if we were going to have a baby. I am going to be there every step of the way until the baby is born and then I am going adopt him so I'm his mother legally, as well." Sandy paused before finishing her thought, "This baby is just as much my son or daughter as it is Kerry's. I hope you're able to see that."

Florina stared with soft but unyielding eyes. Finally, she dropped her gaze.

The two Lopez women finished washing and drying the dishes in silence.


	5. An Old Friend and Big News

**An Old Friend and Big News**

**16 Weeks**  
**November**

Kerry leaned heavily against the counter at admit, watching intently as John ran the board. He was expertly doling out patients to the residents and med students, handing the yellow charts out as he wrote the doctors' initials on the board. It wasn't a particularly busy day, which was why she'd passed the reigns over to John for the day; he'd been asking for more leadership opportunities outside of his Chief Resident duties and she figured a considerably slow day would be a good place to start. On a more personal, selfish level, Kerry also considered it would be good to prepare him for her approaching maternity leave; Susan and Luka were capable of running the ER, but it wouldn't hurt for John to be equally as prepared. He, of course, didn't know about her ulterior motives. At least not yet.

"Alright, kiddos, go forth and heal," John finished, clapping his hands and sending the younger doctors and doctors-in-training out onto the floor.

"Anything for me?" Kerry asked.

John glanced at the board then back at Kerry. He was about to open his mouth to respond when something over Kerry's shoulder caught his eye.

"Weaver!"

Kerry suppressed a groan at the sound of Robert Romano's grating voice. With no enthusiasm, the redhead turned around to face the briskly approaching doctor. "Can I help you, Robert?"

Now standing across from Kerry in between the admit desks, Robert was poised for a faceoff. With a cocky, sardonic smile, he responded, "You could have helped me by showing up to our eight o'clock meeting."

Kerry swore to herself; she had scheduled the meeting with Romano a week ago. She'd felt like she'd been forgetting something all morning but for the life of her could not remember what it was. Apparently, that was it. "I've been incredibly busy," Kerry fibbed, attempting to cover up her slip-up, "I apologize for not calling your office earlier."

Robert waved his one, good arm dismissively. "I don't care why, Kerry; you weren't there and I wasted a half hour waiting for you."

Kerry swallowed her annoyance. "I'll call Marsha to reschedule."

The surgeon barked a laugh. "Oh no you don't," he shook his head. "We'll talk now and that'll be that."

A stinging heat rose from Kerry's chest, up her neck, and into her face. She was simultaneously angry, annoyed, and anxious. She had to tell Robert that she was pregnant soon, she knew that, but she in no way planned nor wanted to tell him in the middle of her own damn ER.

"Well? What was so important that you had to schedule a meeting, yet not important enough for you to remember?" Robert asked pointedly before glancing over Kerry's shoulder at John, "Our young Chief Resident hasn't fallen off the bandwagon of sobriety again, has he?" He questioned, his pale eyebrows arched and mouth pursed.

John narrowed his eyes and shook his head with a scathing, disgusted smirk.

"Oh stop it, Robert." Kerry commanded. She wanted to avoid having this conversation in the middle of the ER, but if he wanted to bring John's history onto the table, she wasn't going to have any other choice. Besides, she wouldn't necessarily have to tell him why she needed the time off. "I simply needed to talk to you about scheduling some time off."

Robert's small eyes narrowed speculatively, "When and how much?" He asked slowly.

"Twelve weeks beginning in mid-April."

John, whose eyes had been focused attentively on the chart he held while his ears listened to the two administrators exchange, felt his eyes bulge in surprise. Three months was a lot of time off.

Robert barked out a laugh. "That's not going to happen."

"It's going to have to," Kerry countered back matter-of-factly.

Robert tilted his head in consideration, "You're not pregnant, are you?"

John looked up, now, and waited expectantly for Kerry to give Romano an answer.

Kerry tipped her head back and sighed; screw it, she thought. "I am pregnant, actually." Her voice was stronger than she'd thought it would be when she finally had to tell him. She supposed that telling nearly every person of significance in she and Sandy's personal lives had helped with that.

Still watching the exchange, John's jaw nearly dropped. Next to him, Abby smiled knowingly. Neither of them had been explicitly told about Kerry's pregnancy but Abby had begun to suspect it weeks ago.

Robert stared at Kerry for a long moment, his expression indecipherable. After a while, he nodded once, sharply, "Twelve weeks in mid-April. Keep me informed, Kerry." With that, he turned around and stalked back to the elevators.

A successful smile drew itself across Kerry's face. Well I guess that's that, she thought to herself. A few moment later, after she came down from the high she always felt after standing up to Robert, reality set back in; she'd just announced her pregnancy in the middle of the ER with an audience of her students, employees, and colleagues surrounding her. That same warmth she'd earlier felt creeping up her neck and into her face was back.

"Kerry?" John asked, moving from his spot near the board to stand closer to the older doctor. She suddenly looked a little shell-shocked and he wanted to make sure she wasn't going to go down on them. "Are you okay?"

The redhead turned to face him. A wave of relief washed over her at the site of his gentle smile. Automatically, she calmed. "Yeah. Yes, I'm fine. I'm great."

John's smile grew. "Well congratulations—I had no idea."

Kerry raised an eyebrow; she was sixteen weeks pregnant and finally really showing. She knew that their lab coats normally did a lot to cover the shape of their bodies, but her belly had begun seriously protruding beyond the fabric's constraints over the past week. How the young man hadn't noticed it, she really did not know…

"I had a feeling," Abby said quietly as she passed them to drop completed orders back into the tray. She wore a teasing smile, Kerry saw, which was probably meant to establish her superiority over John. "Congratulations."

Kerry nodded at them both, unable to stop smiling. "Thank you. Both of you."

John nodded, "So, mid-April?" He asked casually, an old feeling of friendship and camaraderie washing over him; he had once been considerably close with Kerry and he thought it was a shame that they'd pulled so far apart in recent years. However, the basis and history of their friendship would always be there, as evidenced by the insuppressible happiness he suddenly felt.

Kerry felt it, too; she valued and respected John as a physician and had once valued and respected him as a very good friend as well. They'd grown apart over the past few years, but the sentiments remained deep down within her. "Early May, actually, but I figure it's better to be safe than sorry."

The resident couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He was about to ask how far along she was when the glass doors leading to triage slid open. From beyond them emerged two EMTs, a patient on a gurney, and a teenaged girl with a bloodied piece of gauze held to her head. He gave Kerry an apologetic shrug as he headed to pick up the newest patient. As an after thought, he called out over his shoulder, "Congratulations again, Kerry!"

The pregnant doctor waved him off and slid her professional mask back into place.


	6. The Name Game

**The Name Game**

**20 Weeks**  
**December**

"I don't want him to sound too..."

"Vanilla?"

"Yeah."

"His—or her—last name is going to be Weaver, you know…"

"Exactly."

"What? Do you want to name him Jose Santiago Lopez-Weaver? Or Luciana Valentina Lopez-Weaver?"

Kerry cackled, shaking her head.

"I thought you wanted to name him Henry?" Sandy said suddenly, remembering a conversation they'd had a few weeks ago. They had talked briefly about baby names over dinner one night but had ultimately agreed to push the conversation back until Kerry was further along.

Kerry nodded slowly. "I…I think I would like that, yes."

Sandy grinned. "Me too." And she would like that; Kerry's father, the original Henry Weaver, sounded like a remarkable man. Whenever Kerry talked about him, she painted a portrait of an intelligent, loving, essentially remarkable man. Sandy wished she could have known him, but would be happy enough to name their firstborn after him.

"And if it's a girl?" Kerry questioned after jotting down the name Henry in the small leather notebook under the column entitled 'Boys.'

Sandy paused. "Do you…would you want to name her after your mom?" She asked tentatively.

Kerry looked at her like she was crazy, an amused light sparkling in her eyes. "I loved my mother very much, but never in a million years would I name our daughter Mildred." She laughed, shaking her head, "Mildred Lopez-Weaver. Millie. No way."

Sandy let out a sigh of relief, smiling as well. "Thank God."

Kerry pat wife's knee and reached out to grab the enormous book of baby names that her sister-in-law, Gabriella, had dropped off earlier that week. It was only a year old—she and Tony had used it when she'd been expecting their son—and was filled with thousands of names, their meanings, and different combinations in which they were often used. At first Kerry found the whole thing overwhelming and had tucked it away, but now she found herself unable to stay away from it. Something about the challenge of picking the perfect name for their unborn child thrilled her.

She flipped through it deftly, noticing the red pen markings spread out sporadically throughout the reference book. Gabriella had given them the go-ahead to mark it up, as well, and they'd decided to use a green pen and post-it notes. Those were sitting on the coffee table as well.

"Okay, what about Hannah? I like Hannah. It has a nice, clean ring to it. Hannah. Han-nah"

Sandy shot her a look.

"Okay...how's Megan? Megan's a good name."

Another look.

Kerry sighed, holding the book out to Sandy. "Fine; you look."

Sandy accepted the book happily and flipped the pages slowly. "Alright, what about Ashley?"

The tables now turned, Kerry narrowed her eyes at her wife.

"Sarah?"

Lips pursed.

"Jessica?"

Kerry let out a shrill, dramatic sigh. "I probably see fifteen Ashley's, Sarah's, and Jessica's a week in the ER."

"Too popular?"

"Too nineties."

Sandy considered that for a moment and finally nodded; if one of them didn't like a name, even if they had the tiniest misgivings about it, there was no way they'd be using it. She mentally scratched Ashley, Sarah, and Jessica off her list and silently flipped through the pages for a while longer, studying the names intently and saying them aloud to herself in her head.

"Anything catching your eye?"

Sandy shook her head then extended the book toward Kerry, "Close your eyes and put your finger down."

Kerry gave her wife a suspicious look but complied, shutting her eyes and placing her index finger near the top left corner of the book. Then she tentatively opened her eyes. "Bobby…" she read aloud, "Why is Bobby in the girl's section?"

"It's unisex." Sandy said, pointing out the green circle next to the name.

"But is it actually unisex? Do you know any women named Bobby?"

"There's one over at the 15th."

"Is Bobby her given name?" Kerry pushed, suddenly deeply interested in the logistics of a unisex name.

"Yep. Bobby Marie Fernandez."

"Middle name, too?" Kerry asked, surprised that Sandy knew the firefighter's full name until a thought crossed her mind, "Did you sleep with her?"

"No, I didn't." Sandy replied pointedly, "She and Carlos had a fling for a hot second. You know, I haven't slept with every female in the department. Give me some credit."

Kerry stuck out her tongue then turned her attention back to the book. She turned page after page, scanning the names halfheartedly. There wasn't really a rush to pick out a name, especially if they weren't going to find out the baby's sex, but she was anxious to have at least one picked out. If they couldn't even accomplish that, it'd most definitely bug her until they could. Kerry was a few pages into her search when one caught her eye. Instantly, a smile pulled at her lips. She looked at Sandy and held out the book, pointing to the name.

Sandy followed Kerry's index finger to the name. She smiled, as well, and nodded firmly. "I love it. Absolutely."

Kerry jotted it down the book next to Henry and went back to the book. She was going to keep looking—either for a middle name or for a second choice—when Sandy took it from her grasp and placed it on the coffee table. "Uh-uh," the firefighter said, shifting onto her knees to straddle Kerry's legs, "I think we've had enough of the name game for one day, don't you?"

Kerry arched a single eyebrow curiously, "And what do you suggest we do instead?"

Sandy smiled mischievously and brought her mouth to Kerry's, "I have another game in mind."

Kerry giggled and kissed her wife.


	7. Loose Ends

**Loose Ends**

**24 Weeks**  
**January**

Kerry sank gratefully into the leather chair behind her desk. She'd been on for three hours and already she felt like she needed a nap. While she knew that wasn't an option, escaping to her lair to begin tying up some loose ends was both a viable and sufficient opportunity.

After a long while spent creating outlines of the next six months worth of budget projections, Kerry pulled her glasses off and cupped her forehead in the palm of her hand. There were so many things, both big and small, she had to do at the hospital before she left on maternity leave. It was a little overwhelming, which was why she was starting so early before she was bound to leave, but even the prospect of spreading it out couldn't fix the fact that she had a lot of work to do.

Kerry wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting stooped over at her desk when there was a knock at the door. She straightened automatically, smoothed out her hair, and then called out for the person to come in.

"Is this an okay time?" John Carter asked from where he stood in the doorway.

Kerry waved him in. She'd been planning to meet with John after he shift but figured now was as good a time as ever.

"It's quiet out there and I saw you heading down here so I figured I'd see if we could have our meeting now." John said, positioning himself so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on the arm of the chair in front of Kerry's desk.

"Good, good." Kerry said, flipping the chart in front of her closed, pulling off her glasses, and clasping her hands in front of her. "I just wanted to have a conversation with you about your role in the ER."

"My role?" John echoed.

Kerry nodded. "You've been forced to step up a lot over the past eight months and you've done extraordinarily well filling in the gap that Mark left. Between you, Susan, and Luka this place has been operating as smoothly as it ever has, if not more smoothly."

John grinned. This kind of praise was rare coming from Kerry. "Thank you."

Kerry gave a flash of a smile before continuing on, "And on a personal note, I am very pleased with…with how far you've come since Atlanta. Save for one small incident, you've made a remarkable recovery from a very serious addiction. I don't think I have told you how happy I am for you or how proud I am of you."

John glanced at his hands, an embarrassed blush warming his face. It was rare that he talked to anyone about his addiction anymore, and the way Kerry talked about it so candidly…well, it wasn't something he was used to.

Noticing his discomfort, Kerry shook her head and moved on. "Anyway, the specific reason I wanted to talk to you today is to discuss who you think would make the best interim chief while I'm on maternity leave."

"Who I think?" John asked in surprise.

"Pregnancy can hurt one's objectivity," was Kerry's dry response.

John barked a laugh, appreciating his boss' sense of humor, then slid off the arm of the chair and into its seat. "Who are your choices? Susan, Luka, and Chen?"

"Not Chen." Kerry said quickly.

John thought for a moment then nodded. "That's probably good."

"Susan, Luka, and—"

"No." John said suddenly, not having to hear the third name to know whose it was going to be. "No way."

Kerry sighed, "He's lost all of his privileges in the OR, he's not acting as Chief of Staff or Chief of Surgery…" Kerry explained, "He's a fantastic physician with many, many years of experience. He could be invaluable."

"Yeah, in a lecture hall." John replied. "Kerry, he has a horrible bedside manner, has no organization or non-dictatorial leadership skills, he doesn't even know the floor!"

Kerry held out her hands yieldingly. "It's something to consider. He has more experience than Susan and Luka combined and it would mean there'd be another hand on the floor."

John laughed again. "That's a good one: 'another hand…'"

Kerry narrowed her eyes at the resident and spoke with an icy tone, "I wasn't making a joke."

John quieted himself instantly, feeling like he'd just put his hand to a hot burner. "Uh…"

Kerry chuckled, her face softening. "I'm kidding, John. I've wanted to use that one for months now."

John relaxed; Kerry's sense of humor always had a way of catching one off guard. Well, that is if they understood it to begin with.

"Anyway, I think my first choice would be Susan." Kerry began, "She's organized and the staff respects her, but—"

"But she's a little too frantic? Or unfocussed?" John finished.

Kerry nodded. "On the other hand, Luka has had problems with some staff members and he's a little unpredictable, but he's a very good clinician, efficient, and exceedingly organized."

John considered the two doctors' qualities and drawbacks. He enjoyed working with both individuals and respected them immensely, despite his personal issues with Luka and convoluted history with Susan. Susan was definitely unfocussed from time to time, but who wasn't? She was a fantastic doctor, had a great rapport with staff and patients alike, and wasn't afraid to assert herself was a leader when need be. Luka was good, too, but his unpredictability would almost certainly be a liability when placed in a leadership position.

"Susan," he said at last. Kerry arched an eyebrow, silently urging him to explain his reasoning. He did, telling her exactly how Susan's attributes outweighed her insufficiencies and how he felt the staff related to both doctors. "It should be Susan."

"Good. Thank you." Kerry said in response.

John looked on expectantly. "So is that it?"

Kerry nodded. "I'll talk to her next week. Thank you, John."

The resident nodded and rose from his seat, turning and heading for the door. His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped and turned back around to face his boss. "Uh, how are you doing?"

Kerry narrowed her eyes at him questioningly.

"You know, the baby. I'm just wondering how you're holding up?"

"Oh, uh…" Kerry thought for a moment, "I'm doing well. I feel better than I have in weeks."

"That's great. Just…uh, just let me know if you ever need anything, out on the floor or otherwise. And take it easy, okay?" John offered kindly.

Kerry smiled at his sentiments and nodded then waved him off. "Thank you, John—now please get back to work."

With one last grin, the young man pulled the door open then walked out. Once the door to her office had swung shut, Kerry let out a sigh and leaned back into the backrest of her chair. She had a lot of work to do.


	8. Kindness, Concerns, and Considerations

**Kindness, Concerns, and Considerations**

**28 Weeks**  
**February**

"A Valentine's Day Party? Are we in sixth grade again?" Kerry asked from the passenger's side of the car, "I hate Valentine's Day."

Sandy grimaced inwardly. She'd known for a long time that Kerry disliked Valentine's Day but hadn't considered it when their friends had decided to throw a surprise baby shower disguised as a Valentine's dinner. It had been a struggle to even get Kerry out of the house to begin with; she was tired from her shift, she was dealing with leg cramps and back pain, and she'd hardly been sleeping all week. That's what Sandy surmised, at least, because Kerry wasn't doling out information about how she felt all too willingly as of late.

"Come on, it'll be a good time;" Sandy said with a soft but enthusiastic tone, "We always have fun at Lauren and Steph's."

Kerry huffed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Sandy's comment.

The couple drove the rest of the way in silence. The only time they spoke was when Sandy asked, after they could only find a single spot on their friends' street, if Kerry wanted to be dropped off before she parked. Kerry had responded with a pointed 'no' and the couple parked Sandy's Subaru Outback five or six doors down from the vintage brownstone townhouse.

"There are never this many cars parked on this street…" Kerry commented under her breath as they walked through the frosty air to their friends' home.

"I _offered_ to drop you off."

"I'm just _saying_."

Sandy didn't respond. Instead, when they finally got to the top of the stone steps in front of Lauren and Steph's house, she rang the doorbell a specific two times in row.

Seconds later the door swung open and a chorus of 'surprise!' erupted from within the house.

"Wha—"

Kerry's shocked, confused question was cut off by a hug from Lauren.

Kerry hugged her back and, as she did, peered over her friend's shoulder to take in her surroundings. She spotted Lauren's partner of ten years, Steph, and their toddler son, Samuel; a handful of their closer mutual friends; Kerry's longtime friends Mike and Joel and their five year old Maia; and a couple of the Lopez kids.

"So I'm going to take an educated guess and say this isn't a Valentine's Day party…"

A few laughs rang out through the living room. "No, but it was a pretty great excuse to get you to your surprise baby party, wasn't it?" Steph asked as she took Kerry and Sandy's coats.

Kerry smiled and nodded, "Baby party?"

The brunette grinned, "Sandy said you said you didn't want a baby shower, but we figured that a dinner party to celebrate the imminent arrival of your firstborn would be alright."

A loving smile was directed from Kerry in Sandy's direction.

Steph spoke up again, "Anyway, come in and have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water?"

Kerry allowed herself to be shuffled deeper into the warm house and exchanged hugs and hellos with the other guests. Finally, she snatched a seat in an overstuffed chair that was only a short few feet away from Joel, Michael, and Maia. The trio began talking, mostly about Joel and Michael's work at Rush Medical Center and Kerry's at County, and Kerry soon felt the deep exhaustion of her day retreat from the forefront of her mind. She was definitely still tired—she had been for four months, now—but talking to her old friends made her feel considerably better. As the trio continued to talk, five-year-old Maia pulled herself away from her father's arms and climbed off the couch. Tentatively, she walked over to Kerry's seat and began to stare curiously at the woman's belly. All six of the trio's eyes were trained on the little girl.

"Your belly is big," Maia said matter-of-factly.

Kerry nodded and spoke softly, "Do you know why?"

A pensive expression crossed Maia's face before she nodded, "You're gonna have a baby, right?"

Kerry smiled, "It's growing inside my belly."

Coal colored eyes grew wide, "In there?" She asked, pointing to Kerry's belly.

The doctor nodded, "It's moving around right now," she told the young girl, "do you want to feel it kicking?"

A smile exposed her missing front tooth. She began to nod but paused to look back at her fathers for confirmation. The two men smiled and waved her on. She extended her small hand and Kerry grasped it gently and directed it towards the top right-hand side of her belly. After a moment, Maia began to giggle. "Is that his foot?" She exclaimed, still laughing.

Kerry smiled and nodded affirmatively, "That's a foot."

The little girl turned back to her fathers, her face glowing with excitement and her infectious giggle still spilling from within. Her tiny hand remained there for a few more moments before her face suddenly fell and she looked up at Kerry with wide eyes, "It stopped." She looked terrified.

The expectant mother had to repress a chuckle. "Babies need to take a break sometimes, too."

Maia's grin returned in understanding and she pulled her hand away from Kerry's belly.

The party continued without a hitch. After a period of socializing with their friends, most of whom Kerry hadn't seen in many months, Lauren and Steph announced dinner was ready. After that, the group gathered in the living room as Kerry and Sandy opened gifts. Most of the vibrantly wrapped boxes and thoroughly stuffed gift bags held onesies, hats, bibs, and blankets in neutral greens, yellows, greys, and browns. Lauren and Steph gave them a set of what they thought to be the most essential Dr. Seuss books, but Michael and Joel bought them the most thoughtful gift of the night.

When Kerry first opened the box, she wasn't quite sure what to say; not because she was shocked, but because she really wasn't positive about what exactly the gift was. To her, it just appeared to be a pile of thickly padded, black nylon straps.

"It's a baby carrier—you know, one that you can wear on your chest, put the baby in, and then have your hands totally free." Joel explained easily, "We know you can never have too many free hands when you've got a newborn. We had one with Maia and it was great."

Michael nodded in agreement. "And wearing them close to your chest is supposed to help with developing a relationship. Ours really helped us bond with Maia." He glanced quickly at the kindergartener who was sitting in the middle of the living room floor, playing with Lauren and Steph's son, "We always fought over who got to wear it when we went out."

Kerry was struck speechless for a few long seconds. The two men had clearly put a lot of thought into the gift, having considered not only the unique situation she and Sandy were in as a gay couple, but also the unique situation she was in as a disabled mother. It wasn't something she lingered on or wanted others to linger on, but they had clearly thought about it in terms of practicality. Instantly she was reminded of why she'd considered them such good friends ever since she met Joel during their residencies at Mount Sinai.

"Now, if you don't like it there's the gift—"

Kerry waved her hand, bringing herself back to reality. "I love it. It's great." She glanced at Sandy who was sitting next to her on the loveseat. The Latina was wearing a soft smile. "We'll put it to good use."

By the end of the evening, after the many presents had been loaded into the Subaru and goodbyes had been exchanged, Kerry and Sandy were back in their own apartment on the other side of the city.

"You had a good time, right?" Sandy asked Kerry as they readied for bed.

Kerry nodded and yawned at the same time. "Better than I thought I would."

"And it was a good group of people? I wasn't sure if you'd want me to invite anyone from the hospital…"

"It was a great group." Kerry paused as a thought crossed her mind, "Your mom wasn't there, though...was she invited?"

"Of course she was." Sandy was disdainful but quiet as she spoke.

Kerry waited to see if her wife was going to explain it further. When she remained silent, Kerry spoke carefully, "Have you talked to her recently?"

Sandy shook her head silently, her eyes studying an invisible pattern on the plush ivory carpet. Her eyes were stinging with tears and she opened and shut them a few times over.

Kerry's heart ached as she watched her wife shutting down right in front of her. The sight brought back memories of the night they'd announced to the Lopez family that they were pregnant; though Kerry initially thought everything had gone over well, she found out when they were driving home that night that Florina had been all but approving of their decision. Despite Sandy's stony exterior, she knew that it had hurt her and that Florina had a strong hold over her daughter. Though Sandy would never admit it, it was evident to Kerry that the older woman's approval was something she thrived on.

Kerry lowered herself to sit next to Sandy. Gently, she cupped her wife's chin and drew her face upwards and out of the dark shadow her body was creating. "Hey, come here…" She said, pulling Sandy close. With her other hand, she wiped the few stray tears off a smooth cheek. "It's okay, San. It's okay."

Sandy nodded her head against Kerry's chest and rested her hand on her enlarged stomach. The contact grounded her and helped her remember what was important. Regardless of what her fierce, bigoted mother wanted, thought, or approved of, Sandy knew that this was where she belonged. No one, not even the angriest Florina Lopez screaming in the fastest Spanish she'd ever heard, could change that.


	9. Just Fine

**Just Fine**

**32 Weeks**  
**March**

"Grant? Can you hear me, Grant?" Kerry rubbed the teenager's sternum vigorously with a clenched fist as she called out his name. The boy stirred but didn't open his eyes, "Hey Grant, I need you to stay with me, okay? You have to stay awake." The teenager made a small groaning noise. Kerry shook her head disapprovingly, "He's still postictal," she said as much to Abby and Gallant as to herself.

"Want me to push more electrolytes?" the nurse asked.

Kerry nodded. "Find me either when neuro gets down here or when his parents arrive; whichever happens first." She said, "In the mean time, Gallant, you can clean and suture that lac."

The student nodded dutifully.

Pleased that everything was under some modicum control at least for the time being, Kerry shed her gloves with a deft, practiced motion and started for the door.

It was a considerably calm evening. Kerry had learned early on to appreciate the quiet shifts when they came, and tonight was no exception; there'd be a dull but unrelenting aching in her back all evening and she wasn't in any mood to be shuffling from trauma to trauma.

It was just busy enough to keep her mind occupied without being overextended, Kerry decided. She had four of her own patients scattered throughout the floor in addition to the ten or so other patients on the floor that the other doctors and students were treating. Grant Mitchell, the seventeen year old from Lincoln Park who came in after having what appeared to be a seizure on the El, was one of those fifteen and had been the first patient to arrive via ambulance since the start of her shift five hours ago. They'd sent off blood work to check for anything out of the ordinary in his system, but she had a strange feeling that the seizure had been a creation of his own body. The only trouble with that hypothesis was that, assuming he did have a diagnosed seizure disorder, he would almost certainly have some form of a medical alert and would not have a valid driver's license if they were currently uncontrolled. Kerry sighed inwardly and shook it off; there wasn't anything she could do to get to the bottom of his situation right now.

"Kerry! We've got an MVA coming in; man in a pickup truck crashed into a mother and daughter in a sedan!" Susan called out as soon as Kerry stepped through the double doors of the trauma room she'd just left. The blonde was pushing a gurney with an adult woman on it. Behind her, Kerry saw Luka heading her way with another gurney. That one had a grown man on it.

Kerry groaned inwardly, realizing she must've jinxed the ER when she mused that things seemed to be calm, but dutifully spun back around to tell Michael and Abby to move Grant into the suture area. She'd almost made a full 180 degrees when a sharp, cramping pain ripped through her abdomen. A gasp escaped her involuntarily and she lurched forward, nearly losing her grasp on her crutch. She thought she was going down until a strong hand grasped her elbow firmly.

"Whoa, Dr. Weaver—" Michael Gallant said, steadying the petite woman, "Are you alright?"

Kerry blinked quickly, "Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so."

Carter, who had been watching the scene as he came down the hall, motioned for Pratt to take the patient into the now-empty trauma room before joining Kerry and Gallant. "Is everything all right?" Carter could tell that some force deep within her wanted her to deny anything had just happened and he hoped she'd be able to squelch it down for both her and her baby's sake. He had seen her flinch, gasp, and falter and he had a very strong feeling that things were not all right.

Finally, Kerry shook her head. "I…I don't know. Maybe. I'm not sure."

Taking control, Carter nodded, "Go help Pratt in trauma two, Gallant. Get Dr. Kovac if you need help."

The student nodded and left the pair, but not without one last worried glance directed in Kerry's direction.

Carter turned his attention back to Kerry. "Abdominal pain?" He asked in a hushed voice, his eyes serious.

Kerry gave a single, tight nod.

"Let's go to an exam room…" He suggested carefully.

Kerry walked, albeit slowly, across the hall and into an empty room. Carter followed closely behind, one hand positioned mere inches away from the small of the redhead's back, ready to offer support should she need it.

Once Kerry had gotten onto the gurney, he continued to ask questions.

"Anything else feel different today?"

Kerry nodded; the backache she'd had all day, which she had previously attributed to the fact that she had a stomach the size of a basketball, was what made the suddenly painful cramp so alarming. "Cramping in my lower back since this morning."

Carter tried not to look alarmed. "Should we hook you up to a fetal monitor and see what's happening?" He knew the answer was yes.

"That's probably a good idea," Kerry said quietly, her voice uncharacteristically timid and shaky.

"Do you want me to call in someone else?" Carter was privy to the discomfort that could potentially arise out of being treated not only by a male employee, but also by a friend.

Kerry shook and leaned forward to pull off her lab coat when another wave of pain washed over her. "Shit…" She said through clenched teeth.

Carter frowned, "Same as before?"

Kerry let out a whoosh of a breath, "I don't think Braxton Hicks are supposed to feel like this."

Carter remained silent; he didn't think they were supposed to feel like that, either. Quietly, he finished helping Kerry out of her lab coat and told her to relax while he went to grab a fetal monitor.

Kerry leaned her head back against the gurney's pillow. She was thirty-two weeks pregnant and, if she had to guess, was in the midst of early labor. It was too early and she silently chastised herself for not recognizing the signs earlier; her back had been periodically achy since the middle of her second trimester, but when she'd woken up that morning she had noticed that a much heavier discomfort had wrapped itself around her lower back. She knew that back and leg cramping or pain were often the earliest signs of labor, but she wasn't sure why she hadn't considered that a possibility for herself…

Carter soon returned to the exam room with a fetal monitor, sonosite, and a cautious looking Abby Lockhart in tow. Expertly, Abby wrapped the fabric straps around Kerry's middle and positioned the monitor over the baby.

"How many weeks?" The nurse asked quietly.

"Thirty-two."

The younger woman bowed her head in affirmation.

"Everything looks fine right now..." Carter said after she'd been hooked up long enough to get a full read. "It's been about twelve minutes since your last and maybe thirty since your first…" He thought for a moment, weighing options, possibilities, and probabilities. "I think you should relax in here for a bit and we can call OB to come down for an exam then go from there."

Kerry was about to accept both suggestions when another strong cramp laced around her back and belly. She let out a gasp and her fist clenched involuntarily.

Carter checked the computer monitor and sighed. "You're definitely contracting…"

"You're sure they're not Braxton Hicks?" Abby asked.

Carter shook his head silently.

Kerry tried to squelch the hot, stingy tears that were forming in her ducts. She knew what Braxton Hicks contractions felt like; she'd been experiencing them since around her thirtieth week. While the contractions she felt now were somewhat similar, she knew both personally and medically that Braxton Hicks didn't come in an increasingly painful rhythm. Between that and the progressively worsening, throbbing back pain, she knew this was the real thing. She was in labor.

"Do you want me to call your OB?" Abby asked.

"Merrell Maynard up on the fifth floor," Kerry said automatically and without hesitation.

"What about Sandy?" She asked.

This time, Kerry paused. Sandy was bound to start a twenty-four in a little over an hour. She didn't want to bother her, especially if it all turned out to be a false alarm, but she also knew how angry Sandy would be if and when she found out that Kerry hadn't called her at the first sign of something gone awry. Finally, she nodded. "She should still be at home."

The nurse stalked off to place the two calls discretely.

"If you are in labor, they can probably slow it down or even stop it with Terbutaline or Magnesium." Carter tried to reassure Kerry, "And even if they can't, thirty-two weekers tend to do well. Their odds are what? 95%?" Kerry tried to force a smile and Carter put a warm hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay, Kerry. It will be."

Abby came back in soon after and helped her change into a gown. Normally she would've been mortified to expose herself so much to someone she worked with, but her current circumstances allowed her to shed her guard almost completely. The nurse told her that Maynard was on her way down and Sandy was on her way then left, again leaving Kerry on her own.

The redhead's eyes wandered around the small, curtained-off area. The fetal monitor to her right showed a natural, healthy rhythm. For that, at least, she was thankful. She may have to have the baby early, but if there were no major complications, they would all be just fine. Just fine, she repeated to herself, they would all be just fine.


	10. Surprise Visitor

**Surprise Visitor**

**36 Weeks**  
**April**

The sound of the doorbell ringing almost made Kerry giddy.

After a month of partial bed rest that was prescribed when she slipped into an early labor in March, she was living deep within a haze of an incurable cabin fever. She did consider herself lucky, though, knowing that she could just as easily have required complete bed rest or, God forbid, a stay at the hospital. Instead, she was left within the confines of her and Sandy's apartment with strict instructions to be on her feet no more than an hour per day. The restrictions were both a blessing and a curse, especially on her joints. Before she was pregnant, Kerry was always mindful of the effect too much or too little activity had on her hip, back, and shoulders; if she ran from trauma to trauma for twelve straight hours, she was bound to experience discomfort, just as she would if she were to stay in bed an extra hour or spend a little additional time behind the desk in her study. Now that she was pregnant, it was like she had to constantly alternate between sitting and standing to relieve the random, superfluous aches and pains that had taken up residence in her appendages. Her inability to do just that was what was really getting to her about bed rest. That, and Sandy's insistent hovering. It had been cute early in the pregnancy, quite endearing actually, but now it was just becoming ridiculous.

Slower than she was sure she'd ever moved before, Kerry headed for the front door to see who was outside. She'd never been one for unannounced company, but at this point she'd be thankful for any form of socialization. At least, she would have been until she saw who was on the other side of the door.

"Hi, Florina." Kerry greeted once she'd pulled the door open.

Sandy's mom stood there, an indecipherable expression etched into her weathered face. The two women hadn't seen each other since Kerry and Sandy had announced Kerry's pregnancy to the Lopez family and there was a palpable sense of tension between them as they stood in the entryway to the apartment.

"Uh, Sandy's not here…" Kerry explained, "but you're welcome to come in if you want."

The older woman nodded firmly. "I know."

Kerry stepped aside to let the woman by then shut the door. She wasn't sure if Florina 'knew' that she was welcome to come in or if she 'knew' that Sandy wasn't home, but she decided to let that be. She followed the short woman into the living room and watched intently as she took her purse off her shoulder, pulled off her coat, and set them both on the arm of the loveseat; apparently, she was going to make herself at home.

"I don't mean to be rude, Florina, but I'm really not supposed to be on my feet for too long," Kerry said, motioning to the leather chair she'd been occupying before the other woman's arrival, "If you'd like tea or coffee or anything else, you can help yourself."

Florina shook her head and gave what Kerry surmised was a forced smile. Then, she took a seat on the edge of the couch that was closest to the chair Kerry was now sitting in.

"Carlos told me about what happened last month…" Florina began carefully. Kerry noticed how she wrung her hands together just like Sandy did whenever she was nervous or uncomfortable. "I'm glad you're okay." She paused for a moment before her dark eyes opened widely, "You are okay, right?"

Kerry nodded slowly. "I'm on bed rest until my due date, but he and I are both fine."

"He? Is it a boy?" Florina asked a little bewilderedly.

Kerry shook her head then shrugged. "Just a figure of speech; we don't know the sex of the baby."

The older woman relaxed noticeably, "It's good to be surprised."

Kerry nodded in agreement and a silence fell over the women. Kerry wasn't sure why Florina was currently sitting in her living room but she wasn't going to force whatever was stewing around in that head of hers, out. If Mrs. Lopez wanted to talk they could talk, and if she didn't want to talk then Kerry would be perfectly content to sit there with her company. It was better than nothing, she thought to herself.

Finally, Florina spoke, "I want to talk to you before the baby comes," Florina said cryptically.

"Okay…" Kerry was taken aback by the admission, "and you don't want to wait until Sandy's here, too?"

Florina shook her head and waved her hand. "No, no, she's too stubborn. It's you I want to talk with."

Kerry opened her hands so her palms faced up and pushed them towards the older woman, silently urging her on.

"You know that I do not approve of your and Sandy's lifestyle, yes?"

Jesus, Kerry thought, she's certainly straightforward. "Yes, I am aware of that."

"I do not like this…this gay thing. I haven't liked it since Sandy was a little girl and I do not like it now. It's just—it's not right in God's eye."

Kerry tried not to get angry. "I'm well aware of your and the Catholic Church's stance on homosexuality, Florina."

"But that is not what has been bothering me." She stated. "I have always wanted Sandy to give me grandchildren. Her older brothers have. She would make such a good mother, so fun and loving. When she told us you were pregnant, I was angry because she was not pregnant. I did not want anything to do with it because it is not Sandy's baby."

All at once, Kerry was shocked, disgusted, dismayed, and angered by what she was hearing.

"But now, now after Carlos has told me so much about you and Sandy and the baby, I am realizing that I need to know this baby. It is my daughter's child and it is my grandchild. I may not…approve of the household it is being brought into, but I love Sandy too much to lose her, and I know that not loving this child will make me lose her."

A wave of confusion washed over Kerry and she wasn't sure how to react to the white flag her mother-in-law was waving. Sandy was desperate for her mother and father to be a part of their baby's life and Kerry thought it was senseless for their child to grow up without grandparents when one set was very much alive and well. With that considered, she should have jumped at the opportunity Florina was offering her. However, something about the combination of her own hormones, her irritability about being cooped up, and Florina's condescending, holier-than-thou attitude really pissed her off.

"I have held Sandy while she's cried about the way you've treated her, the way you've treated us, you know…you may not realize it, but every single time you ignore her phone calls or decline an invitation to come over for dinner, she gets upset. We understand that you don't 'approve' of the way we live, but guess what? This is the way we live and this is the way we're going to continue to live. We love each other very, very much. So much so that we've decided to have a child together. You have children, you know how much you have to love your partner before you can commit yourselves and the rest of your lives to caring for and loving another human being. We love each other, we make each other happy, we comfort each other, we understand each other; as her mother that's all that should matter to you.

"I understand that you want to be a part of our child's life and believe me, we want you to be a part of his life, too. We want him to have living, breathing grandparents who he can love, learn from, and depend on. I've seen you and Hector with your grandchildren; you're the type of grandparents any child would be lucky to have. However, I could never and will never subject our child to any environment or any person who does not love and accept him for who he is or where he comes from. And, Florina, a child born to two women is who he is. It's who he will always be. If you cannot at the very least accept that, then I don't think I want you to have a relationship with our child."

When Kerry finished speaking she let her eyes focus on her enormous, bulging stomach to avoid Florina's gaze. She truthfully wasn't sure of all she'd said during her rant because she'd been on such a heated, invigorated roll, but whatever it had been was leaving her feeling both anxious and relieved. She hadn't meant to upset her mother-in-law. No, she'd only intended to get the message across that, while she wanted her child to have grandparents, she didn't want him to be in a lethal, bigoted, unaccepting environment. She just hoped that Florina didn't balk…

"I'm so, so sorry." When Florina spoke, her words were shaky and broken with impending tears. Kerry looked up; the older woman's brows were furrowed, her eyes were glistening, and her mouth was pulled into a desperate frown. "I…I love Sandy…and I want to be there for her and the baby. And for you." Her voice was growing progressively weaker and she finally put her head down into her hands.

"We want you to be there for us, too." Kerry said quietly. Suddenly, Florina's slight shoulders jerked with a hardly audible sob. Kerry watched from afar as her wife's mother disintegrated in front her eyes. She wanted to offer comfort but she didn't want to push the newly aligned boundaries too far. She also wasn't sure she'd be able to pull herself out of her chair.

Finally, after a few minutes of quiet sobs, Florina had collected herself a bit and looked up at Kerry. "I will try very hard. I do not like your lifestyle, but I do like you and I love my daughter. I will try."

A smile sprung to Kerry's lips before she could stop it; she'd never, ever gotten even of a modicum of a feeling that Florina Lopez liked her. Actually, up until this very conversation, she was pretty sure the woman hated her. "That's all I can ask."

Florina wiped her eyes once more, shook her head a little bit, and took a deep breath. She stood up from the couch and headed out of the room at a quick pace. Kerry was afraid that the Latina was making a quick, unannounced exit until she turned toward the kitchen.

"I'm going to make you lunch," Florina called out in a tone that was a little cheery and a lot demanding.

Kerry let her sheer confusion express itself clearly across her face.


	11. All in a Day's Work

**All in a Day's Work**

**May 17th, 2004**

_8:14 AM_

"You'll never guess who I saw up on the 5th…"

"You're right, I probably won't."

"Would you like a hint?"

Abby narrowed her eyes at John from across the admit desk.

"She's about ye high, has curly brown hair, married to our boss—"

"Sandy Lopez?" Abby exclaimed, suddenly playing into the little game John had begun. "You saw Sandy?"

Satisfied with himself, John grinned and nodded. "She was heading back to Kerry's room with a cup of ice. Said Kerry went into labor this morning and that she's going in for a cesarean in a little while."

"A C-section?" Abby asked, surprised.

John shrugged. "I guess that's been the plan for a while; the baby's still transverse."

Abby winced. "Ouch."

John nodded. "Sandy said they're both doing well, though, and she seemed to be pretty calm."

Abby considered this then grabbed a chart, "Let me know if you hear anything else."

* * *

_11: 35 AM_

"So, I was just up in OB…"

"What? Why?"

"Officially, I was checking on a patient I sent up yesterday. She had a little boy and they're both doing well. Unofficially, I was snooping."

"John!"

"What? I didn't see anything…"

Abby rolled her eyes.

"…aside from Kerry being wheeled toward the elevator."

"John!"

"She didn't see me, don't worry—it was purely coincidental."

"Well?"

"What?"

"How did she look?"

John shrugged. "I really only saw the back of her head. I only knew it was her because Sandy was next to her. She was smiling and they didn't seem to be in any sort of rush, so I'd assume everything's fine."

"We should send flowers up."

"You and I or as a department?"

"As a department, John."

"Right." He nodded, "Maybe wait until we hear good news. I wouldn't want to…"

"Jinx anything?"

"Yeah."

"Good idea."

* * *

_1:17 AM_

"Oh, that's great…that's really great. Thank you for calling. Tell Kerry and Sandy congratulations from the ER. And thank them for letting us know...Okay, I will. Thanks again."

Abby hung up the phone and looked up at the congregation of doctors, students, and nurses before her. John, Susan, and Gallant were in the front of the pack, looking at her expectantly.

"Well?"

"It's a girl. She was born about an hour ago. Six pounds, six ounces, and 18 inches long. Everyone's doing well."

Excited utterings flew around the admit desk. Susan spoke up first, "Does she have a name?"

Abby shook her head. "At least not that they're announcing. But the nurse did have a message from Weaver that I'm supposed to relay to you all."

"What is it?"

Abby grinned, "'Get your butts back to work and don't you dare send flowers.'"

A couple people chuckled but did as they were told. After the crowd had dispersed, all that remained was Abby and John. "How were we supposed to know that she wasn't going to want flowers?"

"She'll appreciate them; she loves hydrangeas." John said confidently, "She just doesn't like people wasting their money on superfluous gifts for her."

Abby nodded understandingly.

"I think I'm going to get my butt back to work, now." John said, smiling at Abby and going back onto the floor.

* * *

_4:33 PM_

Kerry looked up at the sound of her hospital room door opening and saw a pair of legs, part of a torso, and a large bouquet of flowers.

"These were at the nurse's station." The walking flowerpot said in a voice that was identical to Sandy's.

"Who are they from?" Kerry asked, studying the flowers from afar as Sandy placed them on the ledge of the window.

"The card says 'Congratulations and Best Wishes from the ER.'"

"I told them not to send flowers."

"You can't control everything, ya know." Sandy said lightly, "Besides, they look nice and they're your favorites. Whoever picked them out did a good job."

"Probably John," Kerry said, "he knows I like hydrangeas."

"How're you feeling?" Sandy asked after a long moment.

"Like my epidural is wearing off."

"Ouch."

Kerry nodded and glanced over at the bassinette their daughter was sleeping in. "How does she look?"

Sandy took a long, lingering look at the sleeping newborn. She was the smallest baby she'd ever seen, was wrapped up in a yellow blanket and wore a green-and-blue striped hat, and was absolutely breathtaking. "She's perfect."

Kerry grinned, her heart warming.

"Have you thought about a name?"

Kerry nodded. "Have you?"

Sandy nodded. They'd decided to wait until the baby was born to officially settle on a name if it was a girl. Their decision was already made if it was a boy; Henry was the only first name on the list and they'd chosen Benjamin for a middle name. The girls' names were what threw a wrench into their naming process; they'd each agreed on one name, but then had found others that they liked just as much. Finally, after weeks of talking about it on and off, they'd agreed to wait to find out if they were actually going to need a girl's name rather than stress about it preemptively.

"Mariana Leigh and Bailey Marie are my top two." Kerry said.

"Bailey Marie and Morgan Jane are mine." Sandy said with a smile.

"Does that mean we have a winner?" Kerry asked.

"Bailey Marie Lopez-Weaver," Sandy said, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to Kerry's temple, "Yeah, I think we have a winner."

Kerry smiled, too, and glanced past her wife at the infant—Bailey—who was still fast asleep. Kerry had seen hundreds upon hundreds of babies in her life but had never been able to appreciate an infant's beauty like she could now. This little girl, the one they'd tried so hard to have, the one who had put her body and mind through hell and back over the past thirty-eight weeks, was the most gorgeous being she'd ever laid eyes on. After a little while, she spoke again.

"She's been sleeping for a long time now."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with a sleeping baby." Sandy teased, taking a seat in between the bassinette and the bed.

Kerry smiled sleepily and the two women fell into another companionable silence, their minds both occupied.

"Hey, you okay?" Sandy asked when she glanced at her wife and noticed the single, glistening line running down Kerry's cheek.

Kerry hadn't realized she'd been crying, but given the sheer emotion of the day, it wasn't really a surprise. She nodded, smiled, and wiped away the stray tear. "I'm great. Just so…"

"Happy? Exhausted? Freaked out? In awe?" Sandy said lightly.

Kerry nodded again. "And I'm on a pretty nice cocktail of pain medication, too...I'm sure that's helping a bit."

Sandy chuckled. "You should sleep. God knows when she—when Bailey is going to be hungry again."

Kerry raised her eyebrows. "You don't mind?" She asked. Her eyes were, in fact, getting heavy with sleep as she watched their daughter.

"You don't need my permission, Ker, but no I don't mind…" Sandy said softly.

"Mmm…" Kerry responded, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. "If she wakes up—"

"I'll wake you. Go to sleep."

"Mhmm…" Kerry's eyes were shut, now. "I love you, Sandy."

"I love you, too."

* * *

**A/N:** If you've gotten this far, I'd like to thank you for reading! It's been great hearing from everyone who has reviewed and I'm glad that, for the most part, you've enjoyed what I've written. I originally planned to post an epilogue immediately after this chapter, but due to the slightly darker nature of said epilogue, I've decided to post it as its one story; I didn't want to ruin the feel of this story by posting something that some might find borderline depressing. So, if you want to leave Sandy, Kerry, and Bailey how you see them here, you don't have to read the epilogue. If you do want to read where I think the small family ended up, then please have at it! And don't worry; the epilogue may be a bit sad, but no one dies and it does have a pretty happy ending.


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